


Elessarian's and how they came to be.

by LittleOwlet



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aragorn's decendents, Arwen's decendents, Gen, I love my after the war history, If you use this history plz tag me, Made Up History, but not yet, ha, no beta we die like Boromir, no editing, what is editing, will eventually do a story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleOwlet/pseuds/LittleOwlet
Summary: On how Aragorn and Arwen's decendents came to rise . . . and to fall.
Kudos: 1





	Elessarian's and how they came to be.

“It all began with the King Elessar. The Just. The Wise. The Peace Bringer and Keeper . . . “  
King Elessar and his Queen were blessed beyond measure. Seven children. Seven treasures of the kingdom. The heir and jewel of the kingdom was the High Prince, Eldarion. Six gems. Daughters with beauty that rivaled the stars themselves. If the Prince was the Sun, his sister’s were the stars at night. Bright and daring, they were guides and they were wise.  
The six daughters all married, and from their wombs sprang forth a multitude of life.  
The Prince married young, and until he was a hundred years of age, he had kept his wife pregnant often.  
Years past and the royal family only grew. The bloodline was hardy and blessed.  
At the time of Elessar I’s death, he had seven children, fifty grandchildren, and many, many, great grandchildren.

Nigh two hundred years pass. The royal bloodline stretched far and wide. Commoners and beggars. Nobles and Merchants. Hobbits and Dwarrow . . . The elven and Dúnedain blood raced through many, oh so many, veins.  
As it was so common, more than a third of the entirety of the population shared the noble ancestor, people started to give these distant relatives a name. Elessarian. An Elessarian had rights. King Elessar I had commanded it to be so in his last breaths. ‘No man woman or child bearing my blood will ever be turned away from our kingdom. So mote it be.’  
And as such. Those not sharing this blessed right became jealous. Wrought with anger at the injustices of it all. One could not simply declare that they were Elessarian. No. For all those who bore his and his Queen’s blood shared a mark.  
Each Elessarian was borne with a mark. A silvery mark, bright vivid red at birth. The tree of Gondor. Yet instead of the crown above it’s branches, the Evenstar stood proudly in it’s place.  
The mark could be as small as the finest needlework, or it could take up the descendant’s entire back. The mark was impossible to recreate. And no one dared to. In the last breath’s of the Queen, she breathed a blessing, a twin oath to her beloved. ‘Every man, woman, or child bearing my blood will be known by a mark. A mark as pure as starlight, and just as impossible to create. So mote it be.’  
And so it was.

The Elessarians became restless. Fear and doubt raced through each one as whispers grew in the dark. A coup was approaching. A change.  
A cry came from the high castle walls. The Prince was dead.  
Murmur's broke out as it was decided that the eldest Princess would take his place.  
A marriage.  
A crowning.  
A death.  
The Princess turned Queen died in the most tragic way. Bearing a stillborn babe.  
The husband, a noble without mark, filled himself with rage and bitterness.  
A new era approached. And the Elessarians marks itched.  
Soon Elessarians became less than desired.  
The nobles were steadily replaced out of the high council.  
The marks that had once been proudly uncovered, the marks that women and men alike altered clothing for all to see, were suddenly frowned upon. Elessarians grew fearful. Jobs were turned down with a single glance, prices went up and jovial conversations drowned out at the sight of the silvery mark.  
And so the hiding began.  
It started with colorful sashes around wrists, for those who used to be lucky enough to have their marks there. Then it was frantic covering with faux skin. When the marks were hard to see, the prejudice gained even higher strength.  
Elessarians shared the mark. Yes. But they also shared different physical traits. Some gained the elven ears of old. Others the stormy eyes of their founder. The height or the hair. Indescribable beauty and flawless skin. And so, those who weren’t even Elessarian but looked the part, were now under question.  
It was a hard yet subtle change. A generation later and those born with the blessing only knew it as a curse.  
It only got worse from there.

Soon the crusade started.  
A horrible terrible bloodbath.  
Elessarians were persecuted. The nobles and well to do families, beggars and stable hands. No one was spared.  
Mass executions were held. Every man woman and child found or known bearing the mark were to be publicly executed.  
A generation later and the crusade settled down to an ember and the Elessarians hide in exile. As Rangers they keep their blood inheritance to protect the people and the land.  
But they never forgot. And their trust is never won easily.  
Now their numbers are numbered down to the last soul. A people that had once flourished like a sea of wild flowers now carefully tailored into a deadly bunch of roses.

**Author's Note:**

> Abrupt ending but that's where my story will begin.  
> Feel free to use this "history" if you so desire, just please tag me so I can read it :D.  
> Hope it all made sense. Peace out!


End file.
